You don’t kick a dog when it’s down—isn’t that how the old saying goes?
Well, I’m no bitch—but I’m definitely down—and getting to the Theatre District from Union Square I took a number of kicks. But before I could dial 3-1-1 I run into NYPD.
And guess what NYPD says to me, your friendly neighborhood France football supporting neighborhood virgin.
He says “I got a question for you, what happened to France today?”
That topped my Mexican brothers who kept poking their heads out of the back to catch the score and glimpses of the lone France fan staring up at the screen and occasionally hitting the stool. I couldn’t sit. I occasionally used the barstool as an elbow rest and I wasn’t willing to relinquish it
After the cop, as I’m still thinking about the cop, I hear someone yell, “No good today. 2-0.” But the worst…I’m waiting for my train at Union Square and this guy comes up to me—talking. You know I prefer the handsome silent types.
But oh, this guy came up talking…"Have you ever been to France, I lived there so many years, university blahblahblah... He says, “2-0 did you see it?”
(I think) ‘No, sir, I’m only wearing this gleaming Euro 2008-I-just-got-it-in-the-mail-today-imported-from-another-hemisphere-Thierry-Henry-jersey-for-nothing.’
“Yes.”
After talking on the platform we continued chatting on the N train (listen, I try to be a good ambassadress for my city)…and he said a lot of stuff. In fact this guy talked more than me.
Synopsis anyone?
Well, he (Muhammad) from New Guinea says that "Americans are bizarre."
“Bizarre like weird?” I say.
“Yes, weird…”
But skip all of that. He tells me to forget Thierry Henry. He says it just like that "Ah forget Thierry Henry!" "Thierry Henry is too arrogant and that at Barcelona this year he had like 1 goal in 3 games. "
FYI: Total #14 for Barca had nine or was it 14--but whatever, he was suffering from an injury and out some and played out of position--yet still managed to score.
I said little.
He says,
“I’ve seen Thierry Henry (he starts counting on his fingers)”
[AGH! I’m screaming silently….]
“How do you know he’s arrogant,” I ask.
He explains.
“But I love Thierry Henry.” Sorry if I sound like a 13-year-old Chris Brown fan). “I’m sorry,” Muhammad says. “I don’t mean to break your heart. It’s ok. Go take a shower, have a tea and remember Germany.”
STAB!
Can you believe that someone would say that—to me?
Does he not know how many cranberry juices I’ve invested, how many prayers when he was injured at Barcelona and how many arguments I’ve had inside my head about putting a poster on my wall? You’re grown, Danielle. Grown people do not put posters on their walls. In fact grown people don’t even THINK about putting posters on their wall.
“What is your name again?” he asks. “Do you go to school here?”
I felt faint. But it was my stop. Any other day I’m left explaining who HEN-REE is…today though, on what could, but let’s hope not, be Henry’s last international game, I left at half time. I didn’t have a good feeling. I still don’t. It wasn’t looking good and I couldn’t bear to see him lose.
Sigh. France will inevitably be part of my great American novel… after speaking with the guy on the train today—I’ve decided to visit. I’ve got my piggy bank on my desk and it’s ready to save.
6 HOURS, one church service, a tea and snack later I’m on the (1) Train heading home when these two guys stand in front of me, one says, “They lost today, I’m sorry. I was rooting for them too."
Well, I’m no bitch—but I’m definitely down—and getting to the Theatre District from Union Square I took a number of kicks. But before I could dial 3-1-1 I run into NYPD.
And guess what NYPD says to me, your friendly neighborhood France football supporting neighborhood virgin.
He says “I got a question for you, what happened to France today?”
That topped my Mexican brothers who kept poking their heads out of the back to catch the score and glimpses of the lone France fan staring up at the screen and occasionally hitting the stool. I couldn’t sit. I occasionally used the barstool as an elbow rest and I wasn’t willing to relinquish it
After the cop, as I’m still thinking about the cop, I hear someone yell, “No good today. 2-0.” But the worst…I’m waiting for my train at Union Square and this guy comes up to me—talking. You know I prefer the handsome silent types.
But oh, this guy came up talking…"Have you ever been to France, I lived there so many years, university blahblahblah... He says, “2-0 did you see it?”
(I think) ‘No, sir, I’m only wearing this gleaming Euro 2008-I-just-got-it-in-the-mail-today-imported-from-another-hemisphere-Thierry-Henry-jersey-for-nothing.’
“Yes.”
After talking on the platform we continued chatting on the N train (listen, I try to be a good ambassadress for my city)…and he said a lot of stuff. In fact this guy talked more than me.
Synopsis anyone?
Well, he (Muhammad) from New Guinea says that "Americans are bizarre."
“Bizarre like weird?” I say.
“Yes, weird…”
But skip all of that. He tells me to forget Thierry Henry. He says it just like that "Ah forget Thierry Henry!" "Thierry Henry is too arrogant and that at Barcelona this year he had like 1 goal in 3 games. "
FYI: Total #14 for Barca had nine or was it 14--but whatever, he was suffering from an injury and out some and played out of position--yet still managed to score.
I said little.
He says,
“I’ve seen Thierry Henry (he starts counting on his fingers)”
[AGH! I’m screaming silently….]
“How do you know he’s arrogant,” I ask.
He explains.
“But I love Thierry Henry.” Sorry if I sound like a 13-year-old Chris Brown fan). “I’m sorry,” Muhammad says. “I don’t mean to break your heart. It’s ok. Go take a shower, have a tea and remember Germany.”
STAB!
Can you believe that someone would say that—to me?
Does he not know how many cranberry juices I’ve invested, how many prayers when he was injured at Barcelona and how many arguments I’ve had inside my head about putting a poster on my wall? You’re grown, Danielle. Grown people do not put posters on their walls. In fact grown people don’t even THINK about putting posters on their wall.
“What is your name again?” he asks. “Do you go to school here?”
I felt faint. But it was my stop. Any other day I’m left explaining who HEN-REE is…today though, on what could, but let’s hope not, be Henry’s last international game, I left at half time. I didn’t have a good feeling. I still don’t. It wasn’t looking good and I couldn’t bear to see him lose.
Sigh. France will inevitably be part of my great American novel… after speaking with the guy on the train today—I’ve decided to visit. I’ve got my piggy bank on my desk and it’s ready to save.
6 HOURS, one church service, a tea and snack later I’m on the (1) Train heading home when these two guys stand in front of me, one says, “They lost today, I’m sorry. I was rooting for them too."
His buddy asks “Who lost?”
“France,” he replies.
So taken by his sincerity I decide to ask the kind stranger his name.
Kind stranger (I don’t say) “What’s your name?”
“Muhammad,” he says. And that my friends is the tale of two Muhammads. As for me, with football season being abruptly over, I will work on my French.
“France,” he replies.
So taken by his sincerity I decide to ask the kind stranger his name.
Kind stranger (I don’t say) “What’s your name?”
“Muhammad,” he says. And that my friends is the tale of two Muhammads. As for me, with football season being abruptly over, I will work on my French.
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